Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

A Super Cocktail

Killing two birds with one stone, I tried out a couple of cocktail recipes over this Super Bowl weekend for an upcoming dinner party at my brother’s new home. This is the Blushing Betty. Our poison of choice for the evening is a bourbon, and this recipe is perfect for the winter, when citrus is in season and the warming properties of bourbon at at their most expressive. 

Betty is deceptively smooth, thanks in some part to the Maker’s Mark, and the simple syrup that plays an integral part in its make-up. The fresh grapefruit juice is both sweet and tart, coming as it does during its high season. All in all, a happy concoction, and the likely signature cocktail for the dinner party. 

Blushing Betty 
  • 1 ounce fresh juice from 1 pink grapefruit
  • 1 1/2 ounces bourbon
  • 1/2 ounce simple syrup 
  • Garnish: grapefruit wedge or twist

 

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Super Bowl Spotlight: Rex Burkhead

This marks the premiere of our ‘Super Bowl Spotlight‘ feature (the first and last one until next year, because researching sports shit is just not my scene). I did, however, put forth some effort to secure this one, because while gingers may rule the red roost here, a bald man is just as much appreciated. No hair on the chest is one (disappointing) thing, but no hair on the head is quite another, and in these parts we celebrate the chrome-domed among us as the hot and sultry guys they are. Case in point is Rex Bulkhead, a running back for the New England Patriots (previously of the Cincinnati Bengals). I know several people who would gleefully trade in the carefully-coifed tops of Tom Brady and Rob Gronkowski for the sleek and chic smoothness of Mr. Burkhead’s head. Here’s wishing him luck today in the really big game. 

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Justin Timberlake Gets Super Naked

The last time Justin Timberlake was at the Super Bowl, he was aiding Janet Jackson in the wardrobe-malfunction heard round the world. I’m not sure why they played it off like that; he clearly ripped off the tear-away patch of fabric covering her pierced boob in a move obviously choreographed to the minute. “Gonna have you naked by the end of this song,” indeed. He came out of that relatively unscathed – it was a different time then. Only the owner of the exposed nipple got all the outrage. I’d love to see what would happen if they repeated that scene this year.

That’s not going to happen, as JT’s star has risen to the point where he has to play it safe or risk alienating the adoration and love of the mainstream pop culture world. Tonight’s Super Bowl Halftime show will likely prove what a stellar performer he is, and even if it pales in comparison to the epic production that Madonna brought to her Patriots game, I’m confident he can pull off a compelling performance.

In honor of the really big show, here’s a look back at some of Timberlake’s memorable posts, beginning with this magnificent manspread moment. He probes a little deeper in an amazing crotch grab gif here. Meanwhile, the simplicity of Timberlake’s naked ass is on display to fine effect here. Recently he heralded his beast meat in the new ‘Filthy’ single. If there are any Madonna fans out there, they will remember her collaboration with Timberlake here. Finally, a larger version of the naked butt GIF below can be found here, because a naked Justin Timberlake can never be too big. 

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Super Gratuitous Bowl Post

Behold, it is Super Bowl Sunday!! This is the one day in the entire year where I make Buffalo chicken dip (a.k.a. chicken crack dip according to the internet). I’ll fancy it up with some fresh green onions as a garnish, and whole wheat pita bread for dipping, because I can convince myself that anything is healthy when whole wheat is involved. Mind fucking is a glorious thing in your 40’s. 

What’s on the agenda? Perhaps some live-tweeting of the big game, or at least the commercials leading up to the half-time show with Justin Timberlake. (He was rumored to be using a hologram of Prince in this one, which would, in my estimation, be rather cataclysmic, but I’ll reserve judgment for how it turns out in the end.) Mr. Timberlake will be back here in a few hours with a shameless promo-plug of his naked ass. We live to give.

Tom Brady’s mug adorns this post, as he will anchor the Patriots, who are going for their sixth (?) Super Bowl Ring. (Cue Ring of Fire.) In honor of that, a few links to past Super Bowl glories:

And a bonus shot of a naked Julian Edelman. You didn’t really come here for legit football stats, did you? 

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Satin Robe, Feathered Flight

The stage has already been set for this silly bit of glamorous make-believe. You know, satin sheets and luxuries so fine… As the wind howls and the sun goes to sleep, it’s the perfect time to hunker down beside a fireplace, pull on a blanket, watch some TV and lazily thumb through the new White Flower Farm catalog. Dreaming of verdant gardens with bountiful blooms, warm breezes perfumed with rose and lavender, I drape first my robe then myself over the sofa and tufted table.

A contented sigh signals the weekend at hand.

When the world reveals its darker side, and everything seems to be falling apart, I snuggle in closer to the home life Andy and I have crafted together. And just because it’s only the two of us doesn’t mean one of us can’t be decked out in the ruffled finery of a satin robe.

These silly comforts, these sources of coziness in the winter – they conspire to warm the heart and the home. 

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Silver & Shine, Winter & Wonder

Winter Water.

L’Eau d’Hiver.

Shades of gray.

Pools of light.

Silken snow and snowy silk.

This room, with a corner fireplace, a new sofa, and soothingly cool color scheme is where we shall spend much of the winter. It’s below-ground, for the most part, and though some basements are dark and dank, ours is filled with light and warmth. Many years ago a tree fell through the roof of our house, knocking out electricity and leaving a hole in the attic, where cold and ice and squirrels could enter. The basement was the only source of heat, thanks to the fireplace. To this day, it remains a refuge from the winter.

For the past few months I’ve been working on a superficial renovation of sorts. A new color palette of aqua and turquoise has replaced the outdated golden yellow of the walls. A new couch in a subtle sea color, with a chaise extension, adds a modern mid-century focal point to the area, and a tufted coffee-table lends a bit of classical richness. (It’s probably my favorite part of the room right now.)

The book-heavy and tchotchke-laden shelves have been revamped with a collection of silver and mirrored items, giving an added dimension of sparkle and light, as does a circular wall mirror surrounded in mosaic mother-of-pearl accents. The flaming red elephant curtains have been replaced by a silvery damask velvet in a soft shade of seafoam. Accent pillows in white Mongolian fur and scalloped cream provide more whimsical lightness, as does a modern white chair for the office area.

A softer fragrance is needed for such a soft room, where refined yet simple elegance reigns. I’ve chosen the quiet ~ L’Eau d’Hiver ~ an exquisite offering from Jean Claude Ellena. It whispers and stays close to the skin; an extremely intimate affair that delicately mirrors the way the space draws one in, demanding a closer examination, begging to be touched. If scents had physical textures, this would be silk and velvet and gossamer wings.

I wanted it to feel like a cross between Auntie Mame’s first entrance-room make-over – the one with the blue velvet couch, brilliant chandelier, and silvers and gray – incorporating some 20’s art deco mirrors, a bit of 50’s simplicity and elegance, and her next-to-last room makeover in which she serves her ‘Flaming Mame’ cocktail and hat pickled rattlesnake hors d’oeuvre. Both are airy and a little eccentric, with baubles that sparkle, and a color scheme that is big on light blues and turquoise and silvers and grays.

It is the perfect backdrop to a scene of elegant cocktail gatherings, fasten-your-seatbelts party intrigue, and lounging in feathery robes and flowing silken garments, where glamorous movie stars languidly recline while serving bon-bons of wit on shiny silver-tongued platters.

That’s what I’m telling myself anyway, and we’re all entitled to a little delusional vanity in the winter months. Flights of fancy, even if they’re only in your head, were never more welcome than now.

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February in a Flash

Welcome to the shortest month of the year, and may it feel as much too. Hot (or cold) on the heels of a Super Blue Blood Moon, we enter the final full month of winter. We’re on the track, baby, but we’ve got a way to go. Before getting started, however, let’s take a quick look-see back at the shortest months that came before. 

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After-the-Grammy Recap

This was my utterly ridiculous Grammys-watching outfit, inspired by a little Madonna lace and rosaries, and Tom Ford shades. I’m too old to know half the performers these days, but it’s fun to watch the red carpet. On with the last week before I start planning my Oscars ensemble…

The week started by saying goodbye: the loss of a dear family friend.

Comfort is a cardinal.

A family project

The moon brings out a little madness in all of us.

A new fragrance to revive the winter

A Valentine kiss from the Beekman Boys. 

A hunk that spans the Winter and Summer Olympics: Pita Taufatofua

Cocktail hour with Lawrence Welk.

My hints on mastering your own social media

Hints of spring found at the market. 

Hunks of the Day included Eric Radford, Tim Chase, John Coughlin, and Nick Cunningham

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Praying for Spring

I crashed early this year. Usually, I can make it to at least February before feeling the drudge of winter. This weekend, I felt it. Too soon. Too early. There is too much more to go. The only thing that saved me was a visit to the market, where I stumbled unexpectedly upon a few classic spring blooms. Leaning into the hyacinths and daffodils, I breathed in the sweet scent of spring, a couple of months early, and just int he nick of time. 

I was talking to Kira last time I was in Boston and proposing a possible visit to the New England Flower Show (if such a thing still happens). This is the sort of thing that gets us through the winter. 

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Social Media Mastery 101

Certain people in certain circles have given me more credit than I probably deserve as far as social media mastery goes. However, after doing this for a number of years, and amassing a relatively decent following on various social media sites, it may be true that I have a few pointers to help some people out. This won’t offer an instant, magical solution for gaining more followers on FaceBook or Tweeter or Instagram, but it offers some insight into what makes social media enjoyable for me, and how I inadvertently built a sizable group of online friends. Most of this is geared toward Twitter and Instagram; FaceBook has been boring me to tears lately.

One of the main things to remember is that your social media presence is only going to be as good as what you put into it. Many people get discouraged early on because they expect an immediate multitude of followers, and when nothing happens they feel isolated and uninspired. If you’re looking to be made happy or whole by social media, don’t even bother beginning. This is not the place for finding self-worth.

It is, however, a place to engage and interact, and those are the two most important things you can do on social media. The name says it all: social. This is not the time to be a wallflower. Follow people- those you admire, those who make you laugh, and all those whom you actually know. Retweet, share, and comment on those posts that you enjoy. Be somewhat selective, but be interested and engaged in everything when you’re online.

Be patient. Followers don’t follow overnight. Build a rapport with people you know. Reveal your obsessions and cull interaction from those who share the same interests and passions. Tweet to your idols – not incessantly, just when it’s important. Be genuine and authentic. You can’t send the same ‘personal’ tweet out to a hundred different people and expect it to mean something.

Be judicious and careful with hash-tagging. We live in a #HashtagWorld, filled with #HashtagHappy posts. The trick is to find a balance. (These can also act as talismans to ward off trolls. When my Twitter account was being deluged by racist and homophobic Trumpsters, I started using #ImpeachTrump and they largely went away. Russian bots seem to know that engaging with that hash-tag (or #TrumpRussia for example) is actually giving it more power by replying, and that will only make Voldemort Trump angry).

Use photos to your advantage. Get creative. Stand out. Re-think standard poses and angles and cropping options. Indulge in the occasional avant-garde foray. Use good lighting and don’t ever make a duck face. (Duck faces are for people who go on to abuse their Uber drivers with entitled cry-baby behavior, only to have it filmed and lose their jobs over it later.) Bonus points if you avoid posing in a mirror (that’s amateur hour). Exposing a selfie stick is also cheesy as Patti Labelle’s Over the Rainbow Mac-and-Cheese, and she uses a ton of Velveeta.

I’m not going to lie: shirtless and skin-heavy shots rack up the likes and follows because sex sells. That’s how some otherwise bland people (guilty) get a lot of followers (people are thirsty!) but there’s got to be something to keep them following you.

Post consistently. You need not be completely consistent in content, as a little variation keeps things interesting, but if you are serious about gaining followers and carving a presence online, you’ve got to be present. A few well-thought-out tweets or photos a day are ample. If you disappear for weeks at a time without explanation, people will leave. That’s the nature of the beast. The online world is more fickle than any other. An instant is a lifetime, and no one waits very long no matter how good your output might be. That said, the other extreme – too much posting – can be just as repellent. There are some who ascribe to the adage that one can never post too much. I disagree, at least if you want to build a quality social circle. A little bit of absence makes the heart grow fonder. There’s no sure-fire calculation on the balance – it’s whatever works best for you.

Proofread what you are posting. Twice. I can’t tell you the number of otherwise witty and wonderful posts I’ve not retweeted or shared due to a spelling or grammatical error. It takes all the power out of whatever the message might have been. Serious comments look stupid. Funny responses lose their humor. Touching words sound silly. All because you were to quick or lazy too sea that your posting had errors. See what I peen? The degradation of such things matters. Push against it and rise above. People will take you more seriously.

That said, don’t take any of this too seriously. Social media should be fun and enjoyable. This is not where you should get your hard news, even if it offers a platform for sharing such items. This is not where you should air personal and private family grievances. This is not where you should engage in couples counseling for the world to see. Don’t get me wrong, we will watch and you will get noticed, but we will also take screenshots and so will the person with whom you are arguing.

Finally, don’t forget that your real life exists off the phone and computer. A simple hug in person is worth more than a billion followers who ‘like’ something you posted. All the online love in the world cannot compare to the real thing, and once you realize that, you’ve already discovered the biggest secret to social media. Oh, and don’t forget to follow @alanilagan on Twitter and Instagram. It will be the best thing you ever did. (Did I mention to ignore all hype and hoopla by shameless bloggers?)

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Cocktail Hour with Lawrence Welk

When I was a kid, my family used to watch ‘The Lawrence Welk Show’ religiously. It was safe family fare (most television in the early 80’s was, for that matter, but my parents were so old-school they considered ‘The Facts of Life’ way too dirty for us to watch). We won’t mention what they put on television today. Back then Mr. Welk provided a super-safe-for-work alternative, and I ate it up. All those chiffon gowns and smiling blonde gentlemen… it was heaven. 

These days if I ever catch Lawrence Welk on PBS I pause and take a moment to enjoy the earnest corniness of the whole thing. It another era, and another world. Surely it wasn’t as rosy and perfect as they made it out to be, but we could always pretend. On this evening, I even found a Lawrence Welk cocktail, originated by The John Dory Oyster Bar in New York. It’s tequila-based, which at first seemed at odds with Lawrence Welk. I would’ve expected something on the champagne side of things, or whiskey or gin at least, but this one has Aperol in it, so I gave it a whirl and was not disappointed. The lime and Aperol combo is said to conjure a grapefruit in the winter. No time like the present for that. 

The John Dory’s Lawrence Welk Cocktail

  • Ice
  • 1/2 ounce freshly squeezed lime juice
  • Dash Regans’ orange bitters
  • 3/4 ounce Aperol
  • 3/4 ounce Dolin Sweet Vermouth
  • 1 1/2 ounces blanco tequila

Combine ingredients in cocktail shaker, shake it up, and strain into cocktail glass. (I garnished with a grapefruit twist to accentuate the intended effect.)

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Olympic Rebirth: Pita Taufatofua

When last we saw Pita Taufatofua, he was oiled-up and shirtless at the Summer Olympics, so the fact that he just made it into the Winter Olympics is kind of a miracle. He’ll be way more covered up than he was when the weather was warmer, and he shirtlessly waved his country’s flag at the Olympic ceremonies. He worked his ass off to make the switch from taekwondo to cross-country skiing, and my hat goes off to anyone willing to step outside of the boxes we want everyone to stay in. Good luck, Pita!

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Valentine Kisses from the Beekman Boys

Those busy Beekman Boys are giving us a treat for Valentine’s Day by releasing several beautiful cards for you to print out for anyone who deserves a little extra love in next month’s high holiday. Check out their page of cards here, and pick your favorite to print out.

It’s rare to get something for nothing these days, but Brent and Josh seem to know that giving gleans its own rewards. There is beauty in that, and a generosity that we need now more than ever. Thanks boys!

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The Voyage of Hermès

Tom Ford gets all the flashy olfactory glory in these parts, but his scents aren’t always the most user-friendly. That’s partly why I like them. They are not meant for everyday use (nor are their price points). For everyday office wear, I prefer something softer and more subtle, something less garish and out-there. That something should retain an elegance and refinement as befits a person struggling to maintain some sort of nobility and style in a world of Axe body spray and Cool Water.

The House of Hermès had a genius run when it employed Jean-Claude Ellena as its fragrance-maker. Mssr. Ellena crafted the exquisite ‘L’Eau d’Hiver’ which is an understated classic for Frederic Malle. Yet it was his work for Hermès that truly struck a chord with me. Under his tenure they produced some wonderful scents, such as the gorgeous Jardin series featuring garden-inspired fragrances from around the world. I recently discovered that he was also the person behind my latest acquisition – Voyage d’Hermès.

In the past few years, on the hunt for the ever-elusive niche scent that no one else around me had, I’ve veered into pricey territory, giving Andy and my parents undue financial stress when it came to Christmas and birthdays. Along with those heftier price tags came heftier fragrances – if you’re going to drop $310 on a small bottle of Eau de parfum, it damn well better project, slaying with sillage and leaving no doubt who was coming and going. That is all very well for special events and memory-making moments. For the long stretches of in-between time, however, someone like Mssr. Ellena handily beats the heavy hand of Tom Ford. Perfect for the office or family gathering where one wants to be distinguished but not glaring, Voyage d’Hermès is a quietly sophisticated addition to the fragrance arsenal.

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Luna Madness

Next week a crazy super blood moon is set to rise, somewhere around January 31, and I’m not sure we can handle it. As little faith as I put in such astrological matters, there’s always been something believable about the moon and the way it fosters brief moments of lunacy. When it gets full, insane things seem to happen, especially if you’re unaware of its pull. During such times I find it best to lay low, stay subdued, and refrain from causing a commotion. Maybe it’s all bullshit, but it can’t hurt to take a couple of preemptive precautions, and in the middle of winter it’s good to be quiet and still regardless of the reason.

Instead of putting on a show, I’ll stand back and watch it rise. The moon is magnificent and magical, as you can see here as it hovers over Albany in these early-morning photos. It has been the guide and the ruin of certain men and women, the conjuror of all sorts of happy and sorrowful madness, and the watcher in the night. It peeks, preens and poses in all kinds of delightful variety. Shy and remote some nights, boldly burning red and pink on others. It dances or demurs, depending on the mood and the atmosphere. Most of all, it demands notice as it makes its way across the sky.

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